


i need you so much closer

by polarizedprincess



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/F, reminiscing ?, sad-ish stuff, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarizedprincess/pseuds/polarizedprincess
Summary: it's late at night, and you know you shouldn't be thinking of her, but god, you just miss her so damn much.





	i need you so much closer

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of short and messy but the inspiration randomly hit me so eh. also the title is from the song 'transatlanticism' by death cab for cutie , so uhh I'd recommend listening to it while ya read this ? anyway thanks for reading , and feel free to leave any sort of reviews below

It’s unbelievable. You’ve been waiting ages to get out of prison, but now that you’re out, you’re still not happy.

Of course, you’re glad to be away from that shithole, but there’s something missing. Maybe it’s the fact that your boyfriend is in Argentina. Or the fact that the Nine-Nine isn’t  _ exactly  _ all back together.

It’s your welcome back party, and while you usually like skulking in the shadows at parties, it just feels oddly lonely now. Maybe it’s because she’s not here to skulk with you.

God, she would’ve loved this. She’d be jokingly trying to steal you and Jake’s thunder, but her hand would’ve been tightly linked with yours, and she’d be looking at you with the radiance of the sun contained in her eyes.

No, no, that was before. It was  _ before. _

A thought crosses your mind, and you unstick yourself from the wall. You finish the last of your beer, and tell Charles you’re going to take off. He hugs you (for the thirteenth time that hour), and you get your coat and leave.

Shaw’s Bar is not far from the precinct, and neither is her apartment. You caught a ride from Amy to the bar, so you have to walk to her place. There’s always the option to take a cab, but you’re still savoring the feel of fresh, non-prison air on your skin.

The street, as usual, smells like garbage and urine, with the faintest hint of blood. You shove your hands deep into your pockets, and walk. It hits you that she used to complain about the smell a lot. And who can blame her? Even prison is not enough to make you miss it.

You listen to the sound of your footsteps, the sound of a group of guys getting drunk in the distance, the sound of the wind carelessly sliding through the trees. You treasure all these sounds, and only wish that she could be there with you too.

You know you shouldn’t keep thinking about her. You’re engaged. But you can’t help it. You’ve missed her so much.

She rarely came to see you in prison. She’s been so busy with her baby, and you understand completely. But it doesn’t change the fact that you just really fucking miss her. Even after everything, the two of you were friends.

You reminisce on all the long walks the two of you used to take from her apartment to Shaw’s. The way she complained about everything, the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at you, her soft chuckles whenever you said something funny. 

The way she held your hand - loosely, but her fingers always tightened whenever it seemed like you might let go. And you let go, didn’t you? You let go.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t enough for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for her. It was that you cared for her too much.

The two of you were only together for a little over four months, and by then you were already head-over-heels in love with her, and it was terrifying. So you broke it off.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? You run away. You’ve always run away when you’re afraid, and she was no exception.

You take a left without even thinking; the route to her apartment is almost second nature to you. You remember the day you broke it off with her.

Her eyes - blue eyes, the colour of a bright summer sky - filled with heavy clouds, blocking out that light of hers that you loved so much. Her mouth hung open, but for once she didn’t have anything to say. She’s always talked too much, but you loved her for it anyway.

You loved her. And you broke her heart.

A month or so later, you met Adrian Pimento. And you overcompensated with him. The two of you have attraction, sure, but to even put it in the same category as what you felt for her is  _ laughable. _

You’re engaged, you have to keep reminding yourself. Somewhere in Argentina, there is a man surrounded by scorpions who loves you.

The thought dissipates as you notice the homeless guy on the block. You dig in your pockets for change, and give him a couple dollars. He smiles at you gratefully, and you nod stoically.

She had a sort of rapport with him, you remember. Once, he’d complimented her new sweater, and she’d replied with “I love your paper hat.” He’d beamed at her, and she’d smiled back too.

You were walking to work with her that day. Your hand was in hers, and the sky was the colour of her eyes, and she babbled excitedly as she walked, and you couldn’t stop looking at her, even as you walked, and on that day the world was beautiful.

You keep walking. You pass the alleyway where she kissed you for the first time. It was the night of your first date, and you were walking her home. There was a drunk guy yelling obscenities at you two, and she’d just abruptly pulled you into the alley and kissed you.

She’d apologised, but you’d just kissed her again. You could feel her lips curving into a smile against yours, and you couldn’t help but smile too.

You turn your head away from the alley, and keep walking. The apartment is not far, but you choose to take a very slow walk there. You don’t really understand why, considering Brooklyn just isn’t the same without her.

A leaf sifts onto your head, and you brush it away irritably. You take another turn. It’s taking forever to get there. You want to see her so badly, but maybe some part of you is afraid.

You take a short cut through a park. She taught you a way to cut across several buildings to get to her place faster, and you remember being almost disappointed you didn’t notice it sooner.

You pause to check a certain tree stump. It’s right where you remember. You kneel by the base.

Once, the two of you had gotten drunk in the park, and you’d pulled out a pocket knife and carved both of your initials into the bark. It’s still there - a crooked, shaky GL + RD.

You brush your fingertips across the surface. A splinter pricks your forefinger, and you wince, carefully yanking it out. The last time you did that, you’d gotten a splinter too, and she’d laughed at you before jokingly kissing it better. It’s stupid, but you swear the pain lessened right after that.

It was embarassing enough to wake up on the floor of her apartment half-undressed, wearing an inexplicable amount of scarves, with your hair in a giant, tangled mess. She’d woken up in your arms, wearing an unreasonable amount of socks, and to your amazement she’d chuckled softly and kissed you on the cheek, before you mumbled something about her laughing too loud.

Later that day, the two of you had retraced your entire night, and you’d found your knife at the tree stump. You wanted to just sink into the ground when you found the carvings, but she thought it was adorable, and so you’d liked it too.

You feel the grass crunch beneath your boots. Out of the blue, it just occurs to you just how much you miss her. You know you have no right, but you miss being with her. Holding her hand, kissing her, running your fingers through her hair.

Her hair was the colour of autumn, unbelievably soft, and smelled of coconut shampoo. You loved her hair, as much as you loved her eyes.

You miss the way she looked at you - with so much love in her eyes that it almost hurt to look at her.

And you miss the way she felt against you, the way her body fitted against yours perfectly, as though it was made to be with yours. And how she always smelled like lavender and an inexplicably  _ sunshiney  _ scent.

You just miss her so much, because you loved everything about her so much, because you loved  _ her _ so much, but you fucked it up, because you  _ always  _ fuck things up.

You leave the park, and weave your way through a dark alleyway, before emerging into a more well-lit area. Opposite where you’re standing is a little grocery store, where you’d purchased the cheap wine the two of you had gotten drunk with the night of the tree carving incident.

You arrive at her building, and climb up the steps. You’ve spent countless hours sitting here with her, her head on your shoulder, as the two of you watched the city sift by.

You can almost see it - phantoms of you and her, huddled together, slight smiles on both your faces. Every now and then, you’d drop a kiss into her hair, and she’d squeeze your hand lovingly.

You never told her you loved her (when you had the fucking chance), but looking back on it, you didn’t have to. It was blindingly obvious how much you loved her, and equally obvious just how much she loved you.

You nod at the receptionist as you enter. He smiles welcomingly and asks why you haven’t been around much. You just smile cryptically and say nothing.

You take the lift up, resting your head against the wall; a habit you’d picked up from her. You almost can’t believe how a simple walk through Brooklyn is able to make you miss her just this much, but maybe you’ve always missed her, and this was just a little nudge towards those repressed feelings.

The bell dings, and you step out. As you walk down the hall, a little voice in your head is screaming that this is a bad idea. You have a fianc é in Argentina who loves you, Adrian Pimento, Adrian  _ fucking  _ Pimento, who you’ve promised to marry.

And yet, you keep walking, your footsteps echoing behind you deafeningly. Because you loved her, and some part of you will always love her, and you just need to see her tonight.

You stop in front of her place. You check your phone, and it’s 12 in the morning. The walk must’ve taken longer than you thought. It’s no matter, given you don’t have anywhere else to be anyway.

You take a deep breath, and knock on the door. After a lengthy pause, you wonder if she’s even going to answer. As you turn to leave, there is the sound of some shuffling footsteps, soft grumbling, and the click of the door unlocking.

You’d knocked on the door, and the love of your life answers.

“Rosa,” she says, a mild note of surprise in her voice.

You smile. “Hey, Gina.”

**Author's Note:**

> so I kinda left this open-ended since I thought it fitted , but open ends personally drive me nuts so like , let me know if y'all think I should do another part ? thanks :>


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